THE NEXT MORNING, MARCELLA WENT DOWN INTO THE KITCHEN.

She began to raid the cupboards, searching for canned foods. She was slightly grateful that one of her ex-boyfriends was a zombie movie creep. The movies he made her watch... she was set for life with the gore.

But it also meant she knew what to do and what not to do. And she knew she needed supplies.

She set all the cans on top of the kitchen island and paused when she noticed the phone by the fridge. It was blinking, telling her that there was a message.

Marcie let out a sigh before she pressed the button to hear the message,

"Marcella, mi stellina, my baby. Oh, I hope you get this message. I hope you get home okay." Her mother's voice, usually so warm and full of life, sounded broken, raw with fear. She's scared. The tears in her voice stabbed Marcie's heart, "I'm sorry." She sobbed, "We tried to wait, we wanted you to come home first, but the military got to us first. They forced us out. Told us to go to Atlanta. I tried to call your cell, but it must be off. We're going to Atlanta, I hope we see you on the way. Stay safe, mi stellina. We'll find you." She cried once again, "I love you, my baby."

The words slammed into Marcie like a fist to her gut. Tears filled her brown eyes and she sank down onto the bar stool, letting the sobs she'd been holding back finally rise.

Atlanta. The word echoed in her mind, both a promise and a curse. I have to go back. I have no choice. But the memory of the chaos she'd fled from was still too fresh—she'd seen no safe zones, only panic and destruction. How can Atlanta be safe when it's falling apart?

She opened a can of peaches, forcing herself to eat, the sweetness strange and hollow on her tongue. She looked around the empty house. Her father hated guns, always had, and there was none to be found here. God, what am I going to do if I can't protect myself?

Her thoughts flickered to her neighbor—an avid hunter. Maybe he had something. He had to.

Once she finished the peaches, she tossed the empty can into the recycling and found a bag to gather the food. 

In the hallway, she stopped, staring at a framed photo hanging on the wall—her high school graduation picture with her parents smiling proudly behind her.

We were so happy then. So innocent. None of us had any idea what was coming.

Marcie carefully took the frame from the wall and slipped the photo out, folding it until it fit into her back pocket. This is all I have left of normal.

She grabbed the bag once again and went to the back door. She walked around the corner, peaking around before she unlocked her car door. Marcie tossed the bag into the back before shutting the door again and locking it, shoving her car keys into her pocket.

She gripped her self defence key chain and went back into her neighbours backyard, to keep herself from being seen from the street.

Marcie peeked through the windows on the back deck before knocking slightly, trying to get the attention from anything inside.

When nothing came to the window, Marcella attempted to open the back door. When it didn't budge, she walked over to the window. It was open.

"I hate windows." Marcie mumbled before sliding inside,

She clutched the metal shank and slowly walked through the house. She checked all the rooms, not quite sure where her neighbour kept his guns.

Marcie found a closet with an open gun safe inside. Unfortunately, there wasn't any guns inside.

"Fuck." Marcie scowled.

She went through the kitchen, but all the useful things were gone. Marcie slammed the cupboard closed and sighed.

She couldn't make it to Atlanta without a proper weapon.

Marcie walked towards the front door when something grabbed her. She let out a scream as she was tackled to the floor.

Fingers gripped at her t-shirt and growls filled her ears.

"No!" She screamed, pushing the rotting corpse away from her, "No!"

Marcella opened her eyes to be met with the rotting face of her neighbour, "I'm sorry." She sobbed.

Marcie reached for her shank, but it was too far out of reach. She kicked the corpse away and ran towards the nearest door as it followed close behind her.

She slammed the door shut behind her and gasped for breath. The corpse was still on the other side, clawing at the door. Marcie closed her eyes, trying to push the sounds away.

What used to be a living, breathing citizen of this town, was deteriorated into a rotten corpse with one thing on its' mind.

Food.

How could all of this happen within just a few days? It was just last weekend when her and Lexie went swimming at the lake with a bunch of college friends.

And now she's gone.

Once her breaths calmed, Marcie opened her eyes.

In front of her was her neighbour's pickup truck. They never left. They never made it out. Such a horrible thought, brought a lightness on her shoulders for just a moment. She felt bad for thinking of it, but it was a valid question.

Where are all the guns?

Marcella walked over to the truck and looked into the cargo bed, where there was four large bags. She quickly unzipped them and her eyes widened. There were at least a dozen hunting rifles, pistols, and hunting knives, along with the ammo.

"Holy shit." She smiled.

Maybe her luck was beginning to change.

She didn't even know how to shoot a gun. She wasn't gonna be any good with these.

On the wall hung a shovel. Marcie quickly grabbed it before going into the backyard. She found a spot underneath a tree and began digging. It took about an hour, but once the hole was deep enough, she ran back into the garage.

She dug around the bag, grabbing a pistol and a few hunting knives. There were a few bullets in the clip and she read the make of them before searching through the ammo. Once she found the right box, she set it to the side before zipping the bags back up and going over to the hole.

She buried the guns underneath the oak tree. Maybe one day, she'll learn how to use a gun properly, and she can come back and get the rest.

One day.

Marcie grabbed the pistol and stuffed it along with one of the knives into the waistband of her jeans and clutched the box of bullets in one hand while the other gripped the handle of the hunting knife before going back over to the gate.

She opened it, peaking around the corner before making a break to her car. Once she made it to the driver's seat, she sighed.

Back to Atlanta.

She tossed the gun, the knife, and the box of bullets onto the passenger seat. She reached up into the compartment above and grabbed her sunglasses, putting them over her eyes to block out the harsh Georgia sun,

"I'm coming, mama, papa." Marcella whispered before turning the engine over and pulled onto the street, "I'll find you."